


The Companion

by TheMonsterInYourCloset



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Episode: s12e10 The Timeless Children, The Doctor (Doctor Who) Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22991329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMonsterInYourCloset/pseuds/TheMonsterInYourCloset
Summary: The Doctor has been imprisoned in maximum security by the judoon, for life. It's not the best situation to be in when you're in the middle of an identity crisis, everyone you know thinks you're dead, and did anyone mention the voices?Who could possibly save her from this?Yeah that's a bad summary.
Relationships: The Doctor | Ruth Clayton & Thirteenth Doctor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

The Doctor looked around her in disbelief at where the Judoon had beamed her to. Was she never allowed a moment to rest? The stone walls and single small window provided yet another challenge she would have to solve, but her head refused to cooperate, slowly but surely fatigue was wearing her down, and she couldn't run on adrenaline forever. However, even as her vision swam, and her balance swayed, she refused to fall just yet. There was always something that needed her attention, she count spare any time, not then, not ever. 

And when nothing presented itself, there was always the master to find. He couldn't really be dead. Not when he'd already survived all previous attempts on his life. 

Footsteps outside, someone was coming. They sounded odd, like they were underwater, but the doctor paid it no mind.It was a man, probably, going by the walk, but this was the universe, nothing could really be counted on. The awful fact of this reality reminded her there was a bigger mystery that needed solving, besides how to escape a life sentence in prison, it was that question again. The question that has followed her for what she previously thought had been most of her life. The oldest question in the universe. 

Doctor who? Who exactly was she? Where did she come from? What species was she? Because if the matrix was correct, which it most likely was, the Time Lords were copies, she was the original, patient zero, prisoner zero. It was like the first moments after regeneration, a complete loss of identity, only this time it couldn't be solved with a quick cash of adrenaline.

The footsteps came up to the door, and paused. Was there a window? The Doctor couldn't remember, she was still staring out at the stars, whilst also desperately trying to remain upright. She shouldn't show weakness immediately upon entering a new environment, that would definitely end badly for someone. The visitor sounded like they were saying something, but their voice was far away, it was like trying to translate the crashing of the waves during a storm. What little processing power her brain could pull together was quickly torn apart by the endless thoughts and memories that had so recently been forced into her head. Who were those people? All shouting and screaming for her attention, easily drowning out the muffled sounds of the person by the door. Letting out a wince, both hands were brought to the sides of her head. It was too much to process, her mind couldn't keep up. At some point she realised one of the screams was her own.

/

Behind her, the door opened.The man who had been watching outside, ready to commence the procedural medical and psychological examination, rushed inside in deep panic as the prisoner, who had so far not responded to his voice, started to scream. Her hands were buried in her yellow hair, as if to pull it out, her eyes were screwed shut, as if she was in some sort of excruciating pain. He hadn't seen any of them react like this before. He theorized that the woman may have some sort of extreme phobia, unfortunately, the prison had never really been briefed on her. They only knew she was dangerous, so maximum security was to be upheld at all times. They didn't even have a name, just a title. 

As soon as it has started, the screams stopped. It had only lasted for a few minutes, but it felt like longer. The prisoner had collapsed. Her blue coat sprawled out around her as she lay on her back, rather like wings, but if you cared to look, which a lot of the prison employees wouldn't, tears still glistened on her troubled face. After placing a call to medical for a stretcher, and checking breathing and heart rate(s?), he stared down at what was sure to soon become his latest responsibility as a psychologist, as repeated the same question she had thought to herself moment before his arrival:  
Doctor who?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bet you thought space prisons were all really terrible right? Let's just think back to how many times River casually escaped stormcage with seemingly no consequences. See! The universe does care about us sometimes.

Voices, not the same ones that had crowded her mind, but still they were distorted and hard to make out. The Doctor's head felt slow, fuzzy, and some part of her wondered if that was what having a pudding brain felt like. Where was she? She tried to open her eyes, but the bright whiteness of what was on the other side was too much, and she has to blink several times before she could make anything out.

The images became clearer, as did some of the sounds that went with them. A few more seconds, and her mind had caught up too, enough to give the sounds meaning. Two people, a man and a woman dressed in white, were discussing something over a data pad, the Doctor herself seemed to be lying in a bed behind them.  
"What do you think it means?"   
"No one knows, the language isn't in the database, and none of the translators we've sent it to have been able to figure it out. Where do you think she comes from? "   
"Well it's not going to be anywhere we've heard of." That was someone else, someone she recognised. Oh! There was a sharp intake of breath as the doctor remembered exactly what had happened. That was the voice of the visitor from her cell. It was a man after all. They all had their backs facing her bed, none of the doctors could see she had woken up. Now might be her chance to escape! Nope, she was handcuffed in, hands and feet, she'd need to find some sort of wire to pick the locks, maybe if- 

Like she had been pushed off the edge of a waterfall, suddenly she was falling, falling fast as a memory resurafced, intruding into what was strictly her mind, from someone else who had once occupied it, then she got the water at the bottom and she was drowning as it took hold. She was having trouble breathing, all she could think was she had to get out, out of this hospital or whatever they called it, because hadn't she been here before? The memory was there and it was happening again, she was tied to a bed in a hospital, doctors and scientists and so many people, all who wanted to hurt her, to get their own piece of her. The Doctor has never really liked being touched, but now she could remember why, and she was drowning in the experience, unable to fully take a breath, but unable to stop gasping for air.

"Look at me." That. That was real. The logic centres of her brain told her where reality was, but nothing would listen. "Please, you have to calm down, or I'll be forced to drug you again," Again? The man who was the visitor from outside her cell was trying to obtain eye contact. She heard his warning, and something screamed at her to listen to him, desperate to do anything other than have one more medication enter her veins. The Doctor managed to wrestle control back over her body, and push her breathing down to a slower rate, not entirely normal again, but it was enough that the man looked saitisfied, and it appeared that the Doctor was safe. He continued staring, and suddenly the doctor felt very self conscious, because he wasn't alone. She was completely vulnerable, and there were half a dozen medical professionals analysing her every move, trying to calm her down so they could get to work already because it was all a trick, it always was-

Shut up!! The voice seemed to listen this time, because it backed down, and the Doctor was finally able to think clearly. 

Focus. How are you going to win?

One by one, the other doctors returned to their tasks, and the two with the data pad left the room, but not before sharing a certain look with the man who was still at her bedside.

Wow. She really needed to find out his name. Otherwise she would keep calling him the man forever. The thought managed to make her smile, and the man caught it, but adopted a serious look of growing concern. The Doctor thought he was going to bring it up, but instead withdrew a data pad from a pocket, and, without changing the slightly intimidating position he held above her, began to read out a list of questions.  
"What is your name?" This caught the doctor off guard, but she couldn't help wonder at the question's answer herself.  
"What sort of prison doesn't get told the names of their inmates?" He sighed, now it was clear he was more tired than he previously appeared, probably not a good day for him. Hey, they already had something in common. Thinking about her response for a half second, trying to gauge whether this was some sort of test, she decided on the first name that can to mind. "It's Ruth. Ruth Clayton." It wasn't exactly a lie, she was, on some level at least, Ruth Clayton, and at that moment, it was also the closest thing to the real answer she had.

Oh, and Ruth had been the one to commit the crime in the first place.

He wrote the response down, adding a Dr., the Doctor noted, before he angled the pad away from her view, and moved on to the next question. Knowing how little they had in her, the Doctor lied on nearly all of them, thinking she may be able to use this to her advantage later on. 

Home planet? Apalapucia. There would be no reliable records they could follow up, most of them were lost during the panic and mass evacuation of the chen-7 outbreak. She could also answer the follow up question of her species with Apalapucian, as they were similar enough to time lords that her biology wouldn't be questioned, and if they decided to drug her, the drugs would probably work as intended. Well, nearly probably. As in nearly probably wouldn't kill her. Whatever drugs that she had been sedated with up until recently didn't seem to have many adverse affects.  
"Crime?"  
"You seriously don't know that either? "   
"It doesn't matter, I was just curious to see what some little blondie can do that lands her in a maximum security prison. Whatever you did, it must have been bad." The Doctor thought back to something she'd said in her tenth regeneration: ...look up the word genocide, you'll find a little picture of me there... Yes, she must have done something pretty bad. "Hm, she doesn't react to the insults?" She hasn't even noticed, she was slipping again, at least it wasn't in front of any of her friends, "What exactly are you hiding in that mind of yours?"  
"Well, you know us criminals, we've always got something up our sleeves," She would have featured to her own sleeves, had she still been wearing her coat, wait, actually, where were her clothes? She was dressed in a thin white shirt with matching white trousers, exposing her arms far more than what was acceptable on Gallifrey. Exactly how long had they kept her unconscious for? The image of someone touching her as she slept, or any sort of physical contact at all, made her skin crawl. Actually, at least while she slept she wouldn't be overwhelmed with all those surface thoughts so many races couldn't seem to figure out how to hide. One touch, and her telepathy went out of control.

Not for the first time, the Doctor wondered if there was something wrong with her, however, something else had caught her attention. Around each wrist, and probably around each ankle too, were fresh bandages, a small amount of blood seeping through. They ached, and it felt like the Doctor had been in some sort of struggle. Maybe she had pulled against the cuffs instinctively as she slept.

"Well, Ruth, looks like you're physically healthy, so I should be sending you back to your cell. However..." He trailed off, and his decision to share whatever he had been about to say to his patient was visible as it died behind his magenta eyes. "Well, I have a feeling we're going to be stuck together a lot konger, so, my name is Doctor Matthews. We were informed that you also have a doctorate, is that right?" A nod. "I wonder if you could tell me what in?" Okay, she hadn't thought of that question, normally people just sort of accepted it, but, main thing was not to panic. Except, she was already sort of panicking a little, well, she would have said a little later on, if admitting to any panic at all. So, totally panicking more than necessary, the Doctor grabbed the first memory that presented itself that was somewhat relevant to the situation, and went with it.   
"Archaeology." Oh River...  
"Really? That must be pretty fascinating." Quite suddenly, his tone had changed to that that one might use whilst trying to calm an animal, but only so it doesn't run off when you eventually pull the trigger. It was all too obvious what was about to happen, but despite one last desperate tug on her restrains, the blonde slumped into a drugged sleep as soon as the needle entered her arm. 

Matthews pulled it out of the pale skin slowly, and chucked it in the bin on his way out of the over lit room. He hated it, it made the patients act up, but the board didn't care. As a psychologist, he could see the futility in keeping prisoners who were mentally damaged. Often they had no clue what was happening to them, or they were so bad that the crime they were in for had been completely out of their conscious, logical control. Ruth Clayton fell into the first category. Her avoidance of the question regarding her crime proved his suspicions, she avoided answering because she wasn't sure herself. He added this to the psyche profile her been building on her for the fast few days, while she was asleep. Well, sort of. For one last time he brought up the camera feed from last night, and wondered if that language expert from Mentos 5 had gotten any further with the video.

On the screen, maximum security prisoner 9j* was shouting in a language no one could decipher, or find in any database. An outburst she would later appear to forget entirely. She fought against the restraints until they cut into her wrists, her short blonde was hair thrown in all directions as the woman remained unresponsive to all attempts to calm her, and one thing was made very clear. Whatever Dr. Ruth Clayton had done to earn her place in the prison, it was very likely she'd never see the outside of the psyche ward. Doctor Matthews was looking forward to the overtime pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me if this is too long it short or whatever, this is my first fanfic, and if you have any plot suggestions for the future, I'd be happy to consider them. 
> 
> Also, yes, I named a planet Mentos 5/


	3. Chapter 3

The Doctor was running. Running away.

  
For too long she had been manipulated, if what she suspected was true, and now she would finally break free. Bloody bastards. For all she knew she had been under their thumb for thousands of years. Gods, she didn't even know what regeneration she was on. Having previously believed she was the third face, that meant that in reality, she had to have been the fourth at least. Of course, she could also have been thirteen. One more death, and it would be forever. Her molecules lost to the stars as they were scattered through time and space. Forever getting further away as they further lost themselves to the chaos and disorder of the universe. It was as close to nothing as anyone would ever become, no matter what the high council said about honour and all that. 

  
According to blondie, soon they would be nothing themselves. Ah, yes. Little miss pacifist. So that would mean she couldn't be thirteen after all. It also meant that she was destined to have her memory wiped once more, but never again, never again would it be a Time Lord who cleaned out her brain, made as easy as wiping a hard disk, and it was, to them. She was their machine. Their soldier. But what else?  
Now, as she began her decent into the madness of everything that was free to move and change and it pleased, hoping it would be able to conceal her, she had that singular question on her mind. In the end, who was she, really? Who had she left behind on Gallifrey, before being turned into this? 

  
Doctor who? 

  
Regrettably, she had only one person who could help. One lead. The only person in the universe who she may be able to trust, and for once she wished she knew herself to be more cooperative. So, setting the TARDIS coordinates for Earth, some point in the 2010s or 20s, she began the search for her future self, it shouldn't have been too difficult, after all, it's not exactly like blondie was trying to be inconspicuous. Rainbows and a northern accent, really? It's like she was trying to be noticed, whereas the Doctor was fairly certain she never wanted to be noticed by anyone ever again. Look at all the trouble it caused her in the past. After finding out why the high council did what they did, and giving them her own share of fitting punishment, she was going to make them burn for what they did to Tony.

  
The TARDIS landed. Gloucester again. It was always easier going to places that the TARDIS had been before, and it was where blondie had been last. Right. Oh. It was April, 2009. Did it really matter that much? If she tried to readjust she'd end up surrounded by the British army on nineteenth century Mars or something. So 2009 it was. At least she wouldn't have to worry about avoiding herself, well, her regeneration anyway. There must have been some version of her here in 2009, even if it wasn't the one she was looking for. Earth was, after all, one of her favourite planets. If she found them then they might help point her to the blonde one, because she definitely knew something, it was in her eyes, even if she didn't quite know what it was yet. A memory was there somewhere, or maybe a premonition. Hey, maybe she was actually a past regeneration, up until now she had assumed that blondie was her sad future, but if it was her sad past instead, then that meant she was one step closer to pointing a gun at the president.

  
She wondered if it was her who had created the Galiifrey in the other woman's head.

  
Walking outside at last, the Doctor found herself just a few streets away from her old house. Though she had claimed as Ruth to have moved there in the 90s, the house could actually be occupied by anyone now. The air was cool and crisp, and though it was getting darker, Ruth would have said it was a nice evening for a walk. Hell, it was a nice evening for a walk. Ruth was her, and she had been Ruth. She couldn't keep disassociating like this, if it was a past regeneration or not, she knew it wasn't right. If you thought about these things for too long you could go mad, start hearing voices, and then where would she be? In a psyche ward. In a prison too no doubt. The thought was funny for some reason, and even if she wasn't sure why, she allowed herself a laugh. The sun ducked down behind the row of houses at last, and the street was dropped into shadow. The Doctor paused a moment beside a car, reading ATMOS off of a sticker, and tried to remember where she had seen that word before, but unable to recall a buried memory, she looked back up and continued to walk forwards.

  
/Meanwhile...well, relatively...

  
The Doctor was in a psyche ward. In prison. She had been conscious for exactly four hours eighteen minutes and twelve seconds, and was only six minutes three seconds away from breaking her record. Going by how determined Dr Matthews seemed, she was totally going to make it. Recently he had started asking about her tapping, too thick to see that there were four taps a second, every second. She had told him to work it out himself, so far her favourite guess had been the one where he accused her of attempting to hypnotize him with it. But what was really funny was how unconvinced he had been about his own theory. She had managed to stump him, and seeing as so far she had no plan, no rescuers, and quite possibly no hope (that was the human's job, but there were no humans there with any hope), playing with the psychologist had become her new favourite hobby.   
"Ruth, I understand this may be difficult for you to do, but I really believe that talking to someone about any past experiences you may have had could help."  
"Well, let's see shall we... " She trailed off, allowing him to gather a spark of hope for her before delivering the blow, "I've been kidnapped and drugged by a guy who claims to be a psychologist, but I think he's really just projecting his own issues onto me after cheating in his final exam and getting kicked out of med school, before being forced to work in a prison in the middle of nowhere because it's now the only place that will accept him." she leaned as close as the restraints would allow and dropped her voice to a whisper, as if bestowing some great secret on the shocked man, "but the real thing that's been nothing me, is how that's not even true, this prison most the sort of place that would hire half a doctor, you got in here because your mother was in charge of hiring that day." She lay back, triumphant in her win as he was silent with shock, her expression one that would not look out of place on the master. Or at least, that's what she was told.

For however long she had been there, that voice had been her only companion. She was starting to look forward to receiving one of its comments, designed to harm as they were. So yes, she held her stare, imagining what the master would think of her now. Would he finally be satisfied with her? Would he have joined her had she asked? And still Dr Matthews did not look away, until quite aruptly, he seemed to gain some courage, and paced away, until he was out of sight. 

  
He'd forgotten to sedate her before leaving.

  
At last she could begin to think clearly, though it could be hours before the drugs completely wore off. Come up with a way to win aginst that place. She didn't belong there. Not with idiot psychologists who couldn't get doctorates, not with useless talks designed to fix her mind and drugs engineered to make her lose it. She wasn't a criminal, and she certainly wasn't crazy, but no one seemed to... 

  
Yes you are.

  
What? Come to think of it, that didn't sound like the other version of herself she'd grown accustomed to hearing during her imprisonment.

  
Don't try and deny it, after all, I told you we were pretty similar, you and me. 

  
What!?

  
Don't deny it when the madness starts setting in. Embrace it's tendrils as it accepts you into itself. One two three four. Remember?

  
She looked down, and she was still tapping. Her heart rates increased, and her eyes grew larger, it reminded her of asking how Clara managed it... No, please, she didn't need two of them in her head. There was a quiet murmur that came from nowhere in her empty concrete cell suggesting there would soon be more. she stared at her tapping finger, counting, counting, counting, one two three four, desperately trying to gain control. She had broken her record, but the taps were beginning to become more irregular, and her own thoughts started to be drowned out. One two three four. She told herself she could do it. If only she held on a little longer then someone would come rushing in to save her. Hadn't Jack promised to find her? One B, no! Her mind was being suffocated. Deux. Ni. Two! One two three- three - four! She could do this, couldn't she? Keep counting? If she had enough hope...

  
Come on doctor, hope is for humans. You know that.

  
And she was once again lost, as any ration thoughts were getting further and further away from each other as the Doctor further lost herself in the chaos and disorder of her own mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who can guess who's coming next?
> 
> Also sorry, this is shorter than I would like, but anything else I was going to add but have instead moved to the next chapter would have made this one way longer. 
> 
> Also also, thanks for all the kudos and comments, because they are my writing fuel, and keep my anxiety at bay.


End file.
